


Winter.

by PrismaticDelight



Category: Original Work, The Amberwood Series
Genre: Although they wouldn't quite be serious spoilers, But it is canon material, Gen, I almost wrote this with a thousand spoilers, I felt like I needed to, Yikes, i just felt like writing this, they're still spoilers nonetheless, this is rough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22280611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrismaticDelight/pseuds/PrismaticDelight
Summary: This is just a snippet of writing I felt like doing surrounding a piece of Nyx's childhood memory and his life when it began with Carter, Leslie, and their child. I guess if you wanted a timeline, it would all be happening before the events of Amberwood take place. This is also just a one-shot!
Relationships: Nyx and Carter, Nyx and Leslie
Kudos: 19





	Winter.

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone who reads this, let me know what you think of it either here or on tumblr, https://aprismaticodyssey.tumblr.com/. The lyrics are from Midnight Dove by Shawn James!

Snow drifts to the Earth from above, gathering on barren branches and chilly bark. It lay untouched over the ground as nature's blanket, and Nyx felt a strange desire to be the first to leave his footprint somewhere out there. Maybe it was because of the heat. The cabin is too warm. Like a sauna. While the family that took him in wore sweaters and scarves, he wore t-shirts and could run out in bare feet. 

  
This was something Carter and Leslie's biological child found amusing for whatever reason. _"You're like Elsa."_ Nyx remembered them giggling, only to pout when all he did was stare back.   
This isn't his family. This isn't his cabin. Or his clothes. The oak floor wasn't his right to walk on, the shag rug beside the bed too big for him was too...luxurious. No, maybe unnatural. He isn't sure. He just makes it a point to walk around it when getting in bed. Which he hasn't done since they got here a few days ago. 

  
Leslie and Carter said the cabin belonged to some man named Felix. Nyx hasn't met him and, frankly, he never wants to. He has no interest in meeting family members that aren't his.   
What he wants is to be outside, running through the trees, building something with the snow. Get lost. Disappear. 

  
His vanishing act.

  
Nyx hugged his legs closer to his chest, toes rubbing over one another in an awkward fidget and with a hand, he pressed his fingertips to the ice cold glass. Frost bloomed almost instantly, stretching out in designs of leaves and abstract flowers. For a second, he smiled. Just a little.  
  
"Well, that's lovely." Hummed a voice so sudden that Nyx sprung onto his feet, his back pressed in the corner. He must look like a deer in headlights even when he realized it was only Carter.   
  
The older man smiled, patient and still by the open doorway.   
  
Nyx is sure he closed it.  
  
"I should've knocked," Carter said, watching Nyx stare at the door like it offended him. "I forgot this room was occupied. It's usually just... decoration with only a few of us here."  
  
_You're not used to me._ Nyx thought to himself, pressing his back a little harder to the wall. Maybe he'd slip through it and come out on the other side; he's done it before.  
  
"Is it alright if I come in?" Carter's voice was gentle. Uncomfortably so for the young boy.  
  
He stared for some time, truly wanting to say "no". But how could he? Carter is still someone who saved him. This isn't his room, anyway. So, reluctantly, he nodded.   
  
Carter visibly relaxed and strolled closer to the window and the art made of frost that the boy left behind. The view through it is slightly mosaic, yet recognizable.  
  
"You have every right to be wary of me," Carter goes on, "of my wife, my child. All of it. None of us blame you."   
  
Nyx began to open his mouth but promptly closed it. Onyx hair fell over his face like a curtain, shielding him. All of which Carter noticed and thus turned to face him.  
  
"They're just curious." He chuckled.   
  
Nyx kicked his foot, digging his toes into the wood. When he spoke, his voice wasn't much louder than a mouse. "They...they said... I'm like Elsa."   
  
Carter blinked. "Is that a bad thing?"  
  
He puffed his cheeks, trying to hide behind his hair. "What's...an Elsa...?"   
  
It was a question so unexpected that Carter snorted, clamping a hand over his mouth just in time to witness Nyx's glare through his fringe. "I wasn't laughing. That was a sneeze."  
  
"I'm not stupid."   
  
"I never said you were." He schooled his face to ease away the amusement. "Elsa is just a character from a movie. She can manipulate snow and ice. She even made a snowman that came to life."  
  
Nyx pondered over this. "Is she like Mother or Father?"  
  
The man scratched through his beard, upper lip curled in thought. "I... guess so. She's popular, I know that."  
  
Nyx was quiet again, only responding with a smallest of nods. Carter sighed despite himself, folding his arms against his wide chest. He's dealt with plenty of children similar to this boy...but no one exactly like him. Granted, Carter's surprised he's speaking at all. It'd been a month, and the most he'd said has been "yes" or "no" to either him or Leslie. While it is a good sign...Carter couldn't shake off the concern.  
  
"Are you hot?" Nyx jerked upright, having already settled into the silence, and blinked owlishly at Carter.   
  
In response, the latter moved to the fireplace to put out the fire; a process Nyx curiously but distantly watched. Was it obvious? He tried to hide it, but wearing the coat provided made him feel like he was melting. At least in his designated room he could stay pressed to the cold glass.  
  
"So, the cold truly doesn't bother you?" Carter asked once he finished, crouched in front of the dying embers.   
  
Nyx shook his head before he realized the man wasn't looking at him. "No."  
  
"At all?"   
  
"I...guess...?" He began to fidget under Carter's eyes, thus he looked back down. "I've been in ice...it takes a while for it to hurt."  
  
"I see." Carter carefully sat back on his rear with a groan, rubbing at his knees. It was then that Nyx felt it was his time to ask the questions. There was one burning at the back of his mind, one that kept him tossing and turning at night.  
  
"Carter."

The man, for a moment, seemed surprised to hear his name come from him. But he answered with a "Yes?" all the same.

Nyx hesitated, holding the hem of his shirt for comfort, stability. Memorizing the texture, the softness, committing it to memory. "Why did you do it?" 

* * *

  
He takes a deep and careful breath as he pulls himself out of the memory, laying his eyes on the cup of recycled material and hot chocolate. The heat doesn't bother him so much anymore, so now even he can appreciate it in its gentlest form in the dead of winter.   
  
In passing the time, the onyx clad man tunes into various fleeting conversations, none of them particularly interesting. They're just drivel. Snippets of moments in time. A cheating lover, a stressful meeting, an annoying boss, a lazy coworker. _"God! The traffic was a pain in the ass. It took me twenty minutes longer to get into the city with all that construction." "They should've started it in the summer. Poor guys have to work out in the freezing cold." "Ugh, yeah, boo-hoo. I'll feel bad when a piece of asphalt knocks them unconscious." "Lizzy!" "What?"_

Lizzy is apparently the woman in the bright red peacoat and pencil thin heels. No gloves, no scarf, despite it being under fifteen degrees outside. Fashion over survival. She probably walks into Starbucks in leggings and overpriced name brand boots with an oversized sweater, getting her sixth cup of pumpkin spice in two days. Judgemental? Probably, but Nyx doesn't think he's far off. At least her companion is better dressed.  
  
Letting her voice fall into the sea of ambiance, he focuses on the smell of freshly roasted coffee. He catches hints of hazelnut and spice, a combination strong enough to bring back memories of a different point in time. A simpler one. He looks up to the exposed pipes and air ducts, the thin string tied around the former so chalkboards can hang from them, swaying gently in the moving air. His knee bumps the underside of his wooden table free from gum, a finger traces one of the many knots on the surface. What music are they playing? 

_Midnight Dove_

 _Why do_ you _wander_

_on through cloudy skies?_

_There must be a glimpse_

_of hope in sight._

Somehow, it sounds familiar. Maybe he's heard it on the radio, or stumbled upon it on YouTube. He has too many songs saved there, many of which he's since forgotten.

_Spread your wings_

_and take to flight._

_Leave the past behind._

_The dawn will birth_

_a brand new light._

Nyx tunes the song out as well when he sees Carter and Leslie strolling in through the entrance, its bell ringing like it has a thousand times before. Leslie is first to see Nyx, tapping her husband's arm so he knows to follow her through the scattered tables and idle conversations. "Have you waited long?" She asks warily, slipping into a chair beside the window, in front of him.

"I'm still here, so I don't think it matters." He said with an inward chuckle as Carter sits beside her. 

There's a brief silence. "Ah. They're at work." Carter smiles wide, knowingly. It made Nyx raise a brow.

"Did I look concerned?"

"No, but you _did_ look..." Leslie hums thoughtfully, gently peeling the cup away from his slender fingers. "Disappointed." He rolls his eyes at that and pushes back to lean in the chair, promptly crossing his arms. "See, he's defensive now. He's built the barrier."

Confused, Nyx blinks at the pair for an explanation. Carter nods his head towards his arms. It takes far too long until he realizes and drops his hands into his lap. "Don't read me."

"It's a habit, Nyx." The woman says matter-of-factly before taking a long drink. Nyx can't drink it, anyway. "When you didn't talk, I had to find another way to communicate with you. You wouldn't even do sign language, much less write." She sets the cup down and snaps her fingers, nose wrinkled. "What was it...? Some family opened their Library for the first time, and they threw a party."

Carter's eyes light up in remembering. He sits a little taller, too. "Oh yeah! All the way down-state, we took the kids with us because we couldn't find a babysitter." He swivels to Nyx, pointing a finger at him with a Cheshire-like grin. "And you. You broke into the Library, with _our kid_ in tow. You two just disappeared...freaked us all out."

"Only to find those two idiots sitting surrounded by a tower of books and Nyx playing with fire." 

Ah yes, it's all coming back now. Not his brightest moment, especially since he was sick for a week afterwards. Leslie said it was the effects of overexerting himself. But that little kid. That tiny little five-year-old was damn near attached to his hip. When he ate, they stared as though he had two heads. When he helped fold laundry, they tried to mimic him even though he had not a clue as to what he was even doing. If it was their way of getting close to him, it worked. 

Nyx wanted to read at the time, find some place quiet. But not Leslie and Carter's kid. They were bored and trying to find something to do, which, he guessed, somehow involved playing with fire. It took going through a dozen books to find something he could use. It was sort of fun making people out of fire the size of Barbie dolls, giving them voices, making them fight each other. And then he got sick. He was so hot, sweating constantly no matter how cold it was. That's a whole other memory he doesn't need to recall, as fond of them as he is.

"No harm came to them," breathes the young man, meeting the eyes of those two people who have done more for him than he would've asked. "I intend to keep it that way."

It isn't love, not _that_ kind of love, he's sure of that. But it's the kind of love where all Nyx wants to do is put his life on the line if it means a certain person is safe for another day. He isn't worried about dying, not anymore. He has things waiting for him on the other side when that time comes. He'd go to them now if he could. Nyx damn well wants to. Sometimes, it feels like he needs to. But if he did that...well. There isn't a point to any of this, is there?


End file.
